Fear, Terrora Way Of Life

LEOGANE, HAITI — The evangelical Christian minister cradled his head in his hand and in his native Creole, cried out his congregation`s thanks to God that no blood had spilled here.

A few hours earlier, at a small roadside market adjoining the tin-roofed church`s entrance, government troops had broken up a demonstration of ``more than 200 people,`` witnesses said.

Unlike similar incidents that have flared throughout this impoverished Caribbean nation, prompting last week`s declaration of a ``state of siege,`` no one was injured or killed in this protest Sunday about 20 miles west of the capital city of Port-au-Prince. Rather, witnesses said, a few rickety shacks used for shade by merchants were the sole casualties.

The dried fronds that had topped the little booths lay crushed and scattered in the dirt. By early afternoon, the merchants, mainly weather-beaten farm women, were squatting in the sun, once again hawking their rice, grain, fruit and glistening chicken parts to passers-by.

The asphalt roadway bore the increasingly familiar scars of escalating political unrest and confrontation -- ashes and scorch marks from tires and other debris stacked and burned to form impromptu roadblocks by those daring to protest the continued rule of President-for-Life Jean-Claude ``Baby Doc`` Duvalier.

``All is calm now, but tomorrow . . . who knows?`` said one man. The leaders of the protest ``exist,`` he added. ``But they are gone from here now.``

Like virtually every person interviewed during a daylong 260-mile tour of Haiti`s rugged southwestern province, he declined to identify himself out of fear of government reprisal.

Blue-uniformed Volunteers for the National Security, otherwise known as the feared and brutal Ton-ton Macoutes, were widely -- though not universally -- in evidence in the province. Information gathering was further hampered by a government decree, announced Sunday morning, restricting foreign journalists to the capital city.

In Petit-Goave, about 40 miles west of the capital, residents said soldiers had told them that if they remained calm presidential elections would be held in three months. Government spokesmen have made no mention of this and it could not be verified.

Petit-Goave was obviously a city on edge. This is one of the few places in Haiti where ``Down with Duvalier`` graffiti has been spray painted on the walls -- and occasionally sprayed over by Duvalier loyalists.

It is also where violent anti-Duvalier demonstrations have occurred in the last month.

Soldiers barred reporters from lingering in the rock-strewn streets, some marked by recent barricades, and refused to allow them to interview residents. Neither would officers comment on current conditions.

However, residents said persistent anti-Duvalier feeling had prompted the local Ton-ton Macoutes, also called Ti-Tis, to ``disappear.`` Maintaining order and dispersing crowds that assembled ``at the sound of a hand-clap,`` as one resident put it, have been left to the regular police and army, they said.

Elsewhere, however, the mere sight of a blue-clad, club- or gun-toting Ton- ton Macoute was enough to summarily end conversation.

One amiable Haitian, who said he had been jailed for six months and beaten after an abortive 12-day sail for the United States, went silent and absolutely rigid when he suddenly spotted a group of Ton-ton Macoutes nearby on a road a few miles from Port-au-Prince.

He had been echoing frequently heard comments that Haitians believe a Grenada-style American military ``rescue`` was imminent. The fact the U.S. government has long provided economic aid to the staunchly anti-communist Duvalier regime matters little.

``It will happen because we believe it,`` said an office clerk assuredly.

Near the village of Font Des Megre, a huge white stone sign virtually filled a mountainside. ``Dive President JC Duvalier`` it reads in French, the official national language spoken by only a fraction of the population, which overwhelmingly favors Creole.

``Today there was nothing,`` said a man standing within sight of the sign. ``But yesterday there was big trouble.`` He did not elaborate and walked off.